Wildfire
by Mariomarie
Summary: He noticed her tremble as he drew closer, physically pinning her against the wall. Her eyes pierced into his own, a guilt growing in his stomach. He couldn’t take her looking at him in this way.


Disclaimer: We all know that I don't own any part of Harry Potter. If I did I don't think I would be sitting here writing a fan fiction, I would be off writing the real thing, but in a mansion and not my dinky muggle living room.

Please review, I hate it when people read my stories and don't review, because them I'm sitting here wondering what I didn't wrong.

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Chapter One

A slim hand raked through chocolate hair pushing it out of its owners face. It was not very useful blocking her vision from the glorious books, her eyes scanning each page quickly. Now, these were not normal books, if closely inspected you would find titles that were not found in your run of the mill library, such as "Hogwarts A History", "Potions for the Adequate", and "How to find your own House Elf". The room belonged to Hermione Granger, a girl who five years prior learned that she had a special ability, she could use magic.

Hermione sat crossed legged in the center of her room, silently nibbling on her ink quill. She glanced nervously at her door, hopping the towel placed around the bottom of it was holding out the light. She never would have thought she would be in the same predicament as Harry.

Hermione let out a soft snort, "Yeah squash the magic out of him…good luck with that." Realizing she had said the words out loud she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Her heart was pounding as she waited, no one heard. She sighed with a bit of relief. Nothing was simple anymore; she was playing by completely different rules.

Thinking she was done for the night, the young lady began to roll up her parchments, and neatly placed them in the trunk at the foot of her bed, resentfully her wand went in, and returning a large padlock to its front completed the look. One last thing had to be done.

"Crookshanks?" Something on the small sofa in the corner of the room moved, a tail twitching upward first then followed by two beady yellow eyes. A ginger cat slowly trotted over, sitting patiently for her masters bidding. Hermione held out a small key, Crookshanks, not being an ordinary cat took the key in her mouth. The witch got up sneaking over to the door and opened it, the light of her room splashing the hallway with color.

"Hurry…" the words were no more then a whisper, barely audible. The ginger feline quickly and silently left the room. She would be back soon enough; Hermione shut the door and let out another small sigh while sliding down to the floor. She wanted nothing more then to be back at Hogwarts.

When she had returned from her last semester for the summer she knew something was wrong. Closing her eyes she leaned her head back against the wall, silent tears streaming down her face. Nothing was the same anymore, everyone had deserted her. She hadn't heard from Ron or Harry all summer, and her personal life was a mess. She knew the boys were busy with the Order. Hermione had not been to a single meeting since her return from Hogwarts, nobody had contacted her.

Her face began to flush as she thought about the predicament at hand, she was the smartest witch of her age, and they didn't find her important enough. Anger spread like a wildfire through her body, she almost didn't hear the soft scratching on her door. Jumping up quickly she let her companion in, Crookshanks meowed quietly and scurried over to the bed.

"Oh…Crookshanks, I just don't understand what's happening this year…" her anger had turned to sorrow, and she was soon sitting next to her beloved cat, trying to draw comfort from the rhythmic sound of her purrs.

She had only been back for two months when her mother told her the news. She was getting a divorce. Then came the reasoning, she was seeing someone else. Her stomach fell to the floor at the thought. She hated to say it, but she wished her mother had not won custody.

It had started out decent enough. John was a "nice man". Hermione caught onto him rather quickly, he was their for one thing, money. The Grangers were by no means poor. They were a very well off family. Especially Mrs. Granger, who had been raised under one of the wealthiest names, and when she married was given a large dowry to sustain her and her husband.

Hermione didn't blame John for being interested in the money; most people are greedy by some degree. The thing that bothered her the most was the drastic change in behavior. When he first started to stay at the house, he was a guest, and that was how he acted. Always, making sure he was not to close, or to nosy. Then he slowly started to put more of a say on things. He would comment on how the food tasted bland, or how he didn't want the TV's on after nine. Slowly it progressed into far worse things, until one day he finally stated Hermione was not allowed to mention or partake in anything that had to do with magic. He said it was bad to obsess over a "dying" population. She didn't know what to do, so she wrote her father.

Hermione's eyes stung wildly as she thought back. She was standing in the hallway, her hair tightly wrapped in a bun, her wand stuck in it to keep it neatly together. She was waiting for the mailman. She wanted the letter to be directly handed to him so that John couldn't intercept it by any means. She sat nervously tapping her fingers on the wooden stairs.

"What are you doing?" His voice was cool and calm, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He smiled, though it was emotionless.

"Waiting…I wanted to see if I got any mail." Her voice trembled; she had always avoided him when her mother was working. She hated the way he looked at her, like she was some kind of prey. Swallowing she dropped his gaze and looked back out the window.

"You didn't, now go back to your room." Looking down at the floor she silently counted to ten, hoping it would cool off her emotions. He took a step closer, his perfume intoxicating her. She wanted him to step back.

"Did you hear me? You may have had your way when your father was here, but that pathetic fool isn't the man of this house anymore…I would advise you to listen to me Hermione." Her name rolling off his tongue made it sound dirty. She wanted to smack that smug look off his face, but she could only glare.

"Don't you look at me like that…" His hand grabbed the underside of her jaw, tugging her up on her feet, "What do I have to do to get you to understand? How can I show you I'm only looking out for your wellbeing?" His other hand had moved to her waist, she could fell it slowly move across her sweater, she was not a toy. She lifted her palm and with all her might smacked his square across the face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Her breathing was quickened and her cheeks flushed from her anger. She pulled her wand out of her hair causing it to fall haphazardly around her face. She pushed her wand against his cheek.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HERMIONE ANN GRANGER YOU WILL PUT THAT AWAY!" Hermione's mother was standing in the hallway, shooting daggers at her. That was when magic was banned from the house. She was told she could still go to school, her father had insisted that in the custody battle, and that she should lead the life she wanted.

The situation at home got worse, far worse. John was unbearable, he had once asked Jane why she was late to dinner, and after she replied that she had to get some groceries he hit her, then proceeded to tell her if she ever even thought of cheating or leaving their would be hell to pay.

Hermione sat up quickly, hearing a small tapping sound, for the first time in days she had a real smile on her face as she rushed to the window to let in a gorgeous snowy owl.

"Oh Hedwig, thank goodness you're here." The bird nipped her finger affectionately, and then stuck out his leg, a large envelope attached. Hermione didn't waste anytime, in a matter of seconds she was reading.

Hermione,

Sorry I haven't had time to write, I've been training quite a bit lately, Ron too. The Order is taking a lot of time from us; we hope your having a great holiday. Ron recons you are, he said he saw you check out half the library before you left. You're probably done with all your homework, recon you could help us out when we see you? Mrs. Weasley wanted us to tell you Arthur will be there to get you this Saturday, at 8 o'clock.

See you soon,

Harry and Ron

To say she was disappointed was an understatement. She read the letter four or five times just to make sure she hadn't missed something. Hedwig growing impatient hooted softly, and then hopped around the bed.

"Oh I'm sorry Hedwig…its just; I thought there would be a bit more to the letter that's all. Well here." She pulled out two pristine letters from under her pillow, each labeled. Hedwig held out her leg as Hermione wrapped each one, then without a warning she flew off the bed and out the open window, Hermione following shortly to close the window. Returning to the letter she frowned, she didn't understand why the order wouldn't train her, she was going to be in the final battle.

"Homework that's all they ever want from me." Her nosed crinkled with disgust, "I'm not helping them one bit!"

Between homework at night and avoiding John during the day, Saturday could not come quick enough. Hermione found herself pacing the kitchen the morning of, cursing her own stupidity. She hadn't told her mother or John she was leaving, and definitely didn't tell them how they would be arriving. THUMP, that was John getting out of bed, then the sound of toilet flushing. It was the same every morning, he would get loudly out of bed so everyone knew it was time to rise, and then proceed to the bathroom. Hermione counted off his actions, she heard him cross the hallway to her room and knock. Then he started his way down the stairs, she gulped as his footsteps grew nearer.

"What are you doing up?" His eyes ran over her attire, then to her suitcase, and finally rested on Crookshanks carrying case.

"Where do you think you're heading off to?" She was frozen on the spot; nothing she would say or do would make it better. He stepped forward circling around her like a vulture.

"Are you running away my little witch? Are you going back to that damn school of yours?" His voice was pure venom, "I think you better go back upstairs to your room where you belong."

"No, I have friends coming to get me soon, and…" her voice trailed off, she could see the anger rising in his face, a deep crimson rose from the base of his neck till it tinted his cheeks.

Even though he looked on the edge of screaming his voice stayed crisp and cool, "I said, you will go back up to your room, and I will kindly explain to your friends that you have fallen ill." He took another step forward this time placing one hand on her shoulder. A finger of ice slid down Hermione's back settling in the center of her stomach.

"I…I don't have to listen to you, you are not my father!" It happened all at once, he was pushing her into the wall. A picture of the family fell off shattering on the wooden floor. Hermione held back tears as she tried to move out of the way, digging pieces of glass into the bottoms of her feet. He placed both hands on her shoulders, grabbing the fabric present and slightly lifting her. She had to point her toes to keep balance and not fall face first into the pile of glass.

"You will listen and you will listen well. The moment you leave you will not be permitted back in this house. Do you understand?" Numbly she nodded her head, a soft whimper escaping her lips. The light in the room shifted from a soft yellow to a blazing orange as the fireplace roared with attention.

"I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" John's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head, his temple throbbing. He screamed the words, spit hitting Hermione on the cheek, she still didn't answer. She could feel her head bang against the wall as he shook her, trying to get an answer.

"Stupefy!" a jet of red light engulfed her step dad and he fell harmlessly to the floor. Hermione looked up to see a bewildered Mr. Weasley, and a very stunned Ron. Arthur trembled as he lowered his wand.

"Hermione are you alright, did he hurt you? Ron get your brothers, were going to need their help." The freckled faced boy didn't respond, "NOW RONALD!" With those words he scurried back over to the fire place.

Mr. Weasley was by far the kindest person Hermione had ever met. He fixed the glass frame with a flick of his wand, never taking his eyes off of the sobbing brunette.

"Hermione, do you think you can make it back to the burrow? Do you want one of the boys to carry you?" Slowly she looked up at the older man; he was crouching down in front of her, his clothes terribly mismatched. Hermione registered that brown and orange never went together. This was her father, and almost in a leap she was hugging him, crying into him, her eyes slowly closing she was falling away from the world around her. She was falling into a deep sleep.

oooOooo

It felt as though she had been sleeping for days, she slowly rubbed her eyes. Her body was aching; a low moan escaped her mouth as she rolled over.

"Mione…are you awake?" _not yet Ronald, I don't want to wake up yet_. She heard her own voice respond, "Yeah…though I wish I was dead."

She heard her door open and a female voice screamed down the hallway, "She's awake Mum!" Hermione sighed, there was no going back to sleep. Accepting her fate she slowly propped herself up on her elbows, taking in her surroundings.

The first noticeable thing about the room was the color, bright pink was splashed against the walls, making Hermione feel as if she was captured inside a Pepto-Bismol bottle. A very old looking vanity was against the far wall bottles, and trinkets shimmered in the suns light, that was escaping through moth eaten blinds. She was sleeping in a four poster bed, the colors matching that of the walls. She recognized the room at once, Ginny's. Even though she hated the colors, the room brought comfort, she felt safe.

"Oh dear, you look so pale. Come now and sit up I've brought you some tea. Ginny, Ron out!" A rather plump woman with wild red hair pushed her children out the door, "Hermione dear, do you feel any better?" The young girl went to answer but almost choked on the scolding tea Mrs. Weasley was practically dumping down her throat.

"I'm fine…thank you for the tea." She set the cup gently down on its chipped saucer. She was focusing on the flower prints, waiting for some sort of questioning.

"I knew something was wrong dear, I told Arthur just the other day that we should come see you. I owled your mother a couple months into the summer, and got no response. So naturally I began to worry." Hermione could feel her cheeks redden, her blood boil a bit. She had been so upset with Harry and Ron for not writing, she didn't know her letters were being intercepted. Mrs. Weasley continued, "I though maybe it was because I sent Errol, he's not very good on long journeys, but sure enough he came back promptly, but with no note. I sent one almost every other day, hoping one would get to you. I had no idea you were in trouble."

"Mrs. Weasley it wasn't your fault, its fine that was one of the only fights you caught us in." She was lying through her teeth, hoping her words would at least comfort one person in the room. She urged on, "John and I hardly ever fought, and my mum must have just misplaced the letters."

"Oh dear…you poor thing, I know it must be hard for you to just plainly come out and talk, now drink up dear." With those words Mrs. Weasley gently spooned a nutty tasting tonic into her mouth. Hermione could see the room swirl out of existence, a white, red and pink color combination.

oooOooo

"Luscious he's just a boy!" Draco closed his eyes, and smiled at the argument. This was the third one this morning. The Slytherin prince had climbed out of bed, to sounds of smashing objects. When Narcissa got angry her favorite thing to do was throw books at his fathers face. Needless to say none ever hit the devil, though it would be a sight to see.

"Narcissa we have gone over this, he will follow in my footsteps, he will learn as I have learned." Draco frowned; he hated the plans made for him. He never had any intention on being a dog for the Dark Lord. A picture of Wormtail came to mind immediately, he was a despicable creature. _I even feel sorry for Weasley._ He was a rat those many years, hiding in the shadows, and by the looks of it still was one. Groveling here and there, making a scene.

"Master Draco, your father wishes to see you in the study." A house-elf wearing the family crest on its dirty pillowcase bowed, nose grazing the floor. "Sir, he wishes you immediately."

Draco slowly climbed off his four poster bed. He casually replaced the black silk pajama's he was wearing into a more suitable outfit, black slacks and a silk shirt. Ruffling his hand through his hair, he began to walk to the study. Every time the boy had to speak to his father a small lump would form in his throat, and a tight knot in his stomach.

Though fearful his voice was flawless, "You wished to see me."

"Draco, your mother and I have been discussing-"

"I'm prepared to uphold the Malfoy honor, and follow in your footsteps." Even though he had cut his father off, he could see a small smile of approval and at the same moment a cry of horror from the back door.

"Your mother will be fine. I'm sure she will see it my way in the end. It is best for you Draco. The Dark Lord will be pleased." Luscious rose out of his chair, his cane in hand. Its basilisk head reflecting the lanterns on the walls, he started walking towards the door. In a cool collected voice he stated his first command, "Draco, you will become friends with the mudblood, squeeze every little bit of information out of her. Then when the time is right, you will bring her to Voldemort. He wishes to speak to the girl in person."

"As you wish."

oooOooo

Hermione sat in bed legs Indian style, chest puffed out, and arms folded. She was not permitted to leave. Well Mrs. Weasley was not allowing her too.

"Hermione dear I just think you should rest a bit more. I'm just looking out for your wellbeing. Did you want me to fetch Ron and Harry?" Mrs. Weasley lifted her food tray off the bed and with a 'pop' it disappeared.

"I just want to go for a walk, just one small walk. That's all!" She flung her arms into the air, stood up and marched out the bedroom door. Nobody bothered her, the look on her face was enough not to. Hermione stormed through the kitchen, flung the back door open and proceeded out to the garden.

"I guess I shouldn't have done that, I just didn't want anymore tea." That's all she didn't want, tea. At this Hermione started to giggle madly, she hadn't cared about anything else the last three days. All she wanted to do was get out of the swirling pink room.

"Mione are you alright? Harry…I think she's gone mad."

"I reckon your right Ron."

Hermione sat up wiping her eyes off on her sleeve, "I'm fine guys, I just thought of something humorous." The brown haired witch took a large breath before standing, and then dusted herself off. "Your mum is one controlling women."

"I know it. I had Hermione duty for the last four nights." He yawned, "I had to sit outside your door and listen 'Just in case she needs me'." Ron imitated his mother perfectly, down to the facial expressions.

"You better not let her hear you mate." Harry looked behind him just in case. "Come on let's go back inside and finish breakfast, you up for a trip to Diagon Alley?"

"Never better Harry" she pushed her hair behind her ears, and skipped up to the door, "come on slow pokes."

oooOooo

Draco walked around Flourish and Blotts searching out his books for the semester.

"Are you sure you need all of those Hermione? I mean your not doing that 'time' thing this year are you?"

"Ronald shut up! No one is supposed to know. If Professor McGonagall knew I told" Draco could hear her gulp, "I would be expelled for sure. Now boys give me your lists, I know this store like the back of my hand."

Her shoes were tapping the wooden floors, it almost annoyed the blonde. _She has got to get on their nerves. Filthy Mudblood._ Even as the words crossed his mind a small part of him wished he had smart enough friends to help him find his books. He pictured Crabbe and Goyle lost for hours in the book store.

"Idiots…" Draco mumbled to himself grabbing the nearest book and flipping through it, he didn't want to seem nosy. A slightly taller, less bushy haired girl walked out from behind the nearest bookshelf, stopping dead in her tracks staring hard at the Slytherin boy.

"Excuse me…" She held her head high and begun to walk forward expecting Draco to move.

He thought he might as well start to get in her way now, if she was to fall for his charm. He placed one hand on each side of the small passage.

"I think that phrase is actually a question, and I don't believe I said yes, Granger." He almost started to laugh out loud. She had a very distraught look on her face. Her eyes kept glancing at him then the exit, and then finally behind her. Moving around the girl was simple enough, her slim figure allowed it. She seemed to be afraid of his touch, backing up against the bookshelf nearest to her, falling right into Draco's trap.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was barely audible, cracking between words. He noticed her tremble as he drew closer, physically pinning her against the wall. Her eyes pierced into his own, a guilt growing in his stomach. He couldn't take her looking at him in this way.

"Nothing, stupid mudblood." His arms fell to his sides, and the moment an escape was permitted the Gryffindor girl ran.

_God those eyes, shake it off Malfoy. You know what must be done. _

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_Disclaimer: _God I have not written since I started a Teen Titian story about two years ago. Well...hope you all like. _  
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